


a king bows only to his queen

by ameriboo



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Feels, Demonic Possession, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence, One Shot, Possession, king of pokelantis, minor profanity, possessed!ash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22380535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ameriboo/pseuds/ameriboo
Summary: He was unrecognizable to her. That night in the Cerulean Cave, the Ash of her past ceased to exist.
Relationships: Kasumi | Misty & Satoshi | Ash Ketchum, Kasumi | Misty/Satoshi | Ash Ketchum
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	a king bows only to his queen

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: don't own anything  
> warning: blood and curse words

> **“fear me, love me, do as i say, and i will be your slave!** **”**

“Get the fuck out of him.”

Misty saw violence. She saw red and blue.

“I am him.”

She squeezed her hands around his throat, tearing her sharp nails into the warm flesh. He bared a disgustingly joyful grin at her, his teeth sharp and cracked lips quivering. Dark bags under his illuminated eyes made his face seem even more sinister despite the unadulterated joy that he spewed from under her. The small camping torch beside them casting the only light.

The demon doesn’t struggle or fight against her. With a pleased look, his hands reach to the curve of her side, caressing lovingly as she straddled him. The sensation made her want to slam his skull against the ground, till red and blue appeared through bruises and cuts. She reluctantly reminds herself that it’s still Ash’s body. 

“—You’re so strong,” he choked out. “He never said it to your pretty face, but he _loved_ that you were so strong. Always has.”

Her eyes narrowed as she took in a deep breath, nostrils flaring.

“I’ll fucking kill you.”

His voice softens with carefree laughter and for a split second, she hears Ash.

“You’re so beautiful.”

_Squeeze._

_“_ Leave him,” she ordered, hot angry tears swelling up in the corner of her strained eyes. “Get out of his body.”

“Can’t.”

“—You fucking piece of shit. Leave _him_.”

All her fear was swallowed through determination, with rage. Misty indulged her feral instincts, her skin sticky with sweat and grime from the blanket of hard rock beneath them.

“A part of the King remains in this body. It latched on to the aura, growing stronger and altering this boy’s mind and soul.”

She watched as his hand reached to cover her grip on his throat, skin noticeably cold. 

"This isn't a possession. It's evolution."

It has been years since Brock told her about the King of Pokélantis incident. The memory of watching an ancient entity take hold over Ash’s sense struck fear throughout Brock. He explained to Misty how their friend’s dark, warm amber eyes turned lifeless, almost maddening. How Ash became a haughty tyrant with a wicked outlook on life. The deep blue haze radiated from his body, masking Ash’s true aura. The King’s laughter sending chills throughout his body, terrifying Max and May. Luckily, Ash was saved by friendship, by their cries, quick thinking, and Pikachu's thunderbolt. She immediately called him an idiot for being so _stupid_ , going around picking up relics as if they belonged to him. Her stomach tightened at the thought of losing Ash to a malevolent entity.

And here it was, awakened and resurfaced.

They were camping out at Cerulean Cave for the past two nights. The League gave her orders to map out any rare pokémon nests along the inner waterways and she decided to bring Ash along. It was supposed to be a simple task, a getaway. It turned into a disheveled Ash restless in his sleep, awaking and hovering over Misty as she laid sound asleep in her sleeping bag. She awoke to light kisses on her wrists. At first, she was a peachy mess, flustered and speckled, but then became horrified when she sensed something was off about him.

Instantly, he kneeled before her, requesting her to take his place beside him as Queen of the New World. He made it sound like a sweet declaration, their chance to improve all of society and its weaknesses. He described a vision of taking place as a Champion with great influence over laws, judgment, and structure. Once that was accomplished, he'd adopt higher political standing, becoming more than just a figurehead to the League legacy. It'll set the course of cross-regional domination, that he will begin with those familiar with his history until every single one is impacted by his truths and ideals. And, it will all be done, it can only be done, with her as his second-in-command. His bride.

Her answer was to punch him straight in the jaw.

She remembered the story, Brock’s uneasiness, and how deeply thankful she was to everyone. It led to her pushing him against the ground, rage vibrating from her every nerve. She wasn’t there then but she was here now.

He looked barely affected by whatever aggression she placed on him. There was never a second of falter which increased her sense of urgency, the need to take the matter into her own calloused hands before the being saw the light of day.

“The King’s spirit is entombed, yes, but a part of his energy lived on within this body, feeding off this aura in hiding until I was able to evolve. I am enlightened. You don’t understand—I am still Ash.”

Spitting on the dirt beside his face, she snarled. Like she’d hear out

“—Therefore, I am the Chosen One.”

Misty gritted her teeth as she tightened her hold at the drop of his name being said. The direness of the situation left a bitter taste on her tongue. She didn’t have time to question the likeliness of his statements being true. The girl was logical to a fault, but she would _never_ accept giving up on Ash. Not even when they were children and his losses shook his core, not even when her slight jabs at his actions or decisions brought him to stick his tongue out in defense. She saw the matches, the victories and the defeats, and gripped the edge of her seat hoping her screams of support reached his ears. She believed in him. 

If she had to hold on tighter, till her muscles pulsed with weary, so be it. Misty was adamant.

Unhuman like, there were no gasps or pleas for air. Misty felt her hand twitch, as it was lifted from his throat to his cheek, cupping it. He redirected her hand with ease, swift enough that she barely blinked before he smiled up at her. The demon kissed her palm, sending chills down her spine.

She grimaced and jumped off, slamming her foot into his heavy chest before he had the chance to get up. Misty chewed the inside of her cheek. “Stay down,” she growled.

He listened to the demand, watching her from his seat with detached curiosity. Swaying back and forth as he waited for the next part of the game to begin.

Her thoughts immediately go to a missing link.

“Where is Pikachu?”

“Asleep, my love.”

_It’s not Ash. It’s not Ash._

“Don’t call me that.”

“Oh, Misty,” he sings her name, reflecting Ash’s usual tone.

“—That either. Don’t call me that either.”

She doesn’t keep her attention off the sitting body, her heart beating fast as her name rolled off his tongue as sweet as honey. Misty was loathed to admit for a second the act ignited a hot flush to burst across her cheeks.

Blood pounded in her ears as Misty recalled the story Brock recited to her, making the most out of the aged information to process the situation. A thunderbolt to the chest would knock the cretin out of him. Pikachu broke the possession once; he could do it once more. She had to bring him back.

A pause as she flexed her hands into fists, glaring fiercely. 

“Wake up, Pikachu.” Her voice echoed.

His eyes sparked with interest, lips curling upward. The amusement seeping from his expression made her seethed with a passion to wipe it off clean from her friend's stolen face.

“PIKACHU!” Misty screeched, darting towards their tent. “WAKE UP!”

Before she can reach for the opening, a glooming haze froze her still. Her breathing went frantic, sweat started to drip from the forehead as she fought to breakthrough. Teeth gritting, she cursed internally as her body struggled to move forward. She closed her eyes to hyper-focus on breaking free, all she could feel was an icy hand holding her face. It was soft.

“Don’t wake him,” he hushed. “He’ll be asleep for as long as I need.”

The air shifted. Her stomach sank with the thought of Pikachu succumbing to this ominous _thing_ that wasn’t even his trainer.

“Now, it’s only you and me.”

Sea glass eyes snapped opened and locked onto his, the dark pools alit with hunger, with power. She noticed how wide his oddly shaped pupils dilated, staring with fixation. Her insides burned as those deep eyes darkened and bore into her own. They were overwhelmingly daunting, yet deranged and hopeful, like something otherworldly marking their prey. Her mouth felt dry, her mind went frantic at the vulnerable position he vexed. The face, the body—it was Ash. But the Ash she knew and cared about exuded a ray of emotions, but _this_ , this was distant to her. She didn’t recognize him. And the thought of that, made her blood run cold.

Misty’s heart clenched painfully.

“Ash,” she called for her friend, eyes defiant. “Come to your senses.”

“I’m here,” he whispered, voice low and agitated.

Misty doesn’t acknowledge the statement. She purposely looks through the body, hoping for some sign of Ash’s existence, she calls out once more.

“ _Ash_ —”

The demon, visibly irritated, puts his hand under her chin, yanking her head. A shocked face tilted up to face him. To see him. At the snap of his fingers, the haze enveloping her body to a frozen state faded as her weak knees buckled against the solid ground. Rubble itched into her knees at the harsh fall, bringing her skin to bleed. He kneeled at her level, brushing her wild tangerine hair gently, gripping it between his fingers. Her breath caught in her throat at the response, words of dispute hanging off her lips.

In her hesitance, he found an opening, engulfing her into his arms. Before she could fight, they were tangled. His mouth planted against the soft space between her neck and shoulder, breathing her in, the sea salt scent. Desperately, he kept a hold on her scalp, pulling her closer till they were chest to chest. Her irises widened.

“ _No_ ,” he choked. “It’s you and me. From here on out, it’s you and me. You love me, you understand me. You've swum through thunderstorms to bring me back to existence. It is no mere coincidence; we were meant to meet. I am not exactly the boy you knew, but he and I progressed into _this_. Everything you knew of him, still lives through me. I am **_Ash_**.”

Silence struck between them as the words deepened.

“Misty—”

A familiar voice pulls through and reaches her, forcing itself through her ribcage and straight through her heart like a sharpened arrow. Tears flowing down her dirtied cheeks, she stayed stunned. A faint smiled ghosted her lips.

The nostalgia of their original separation, a bittersweet memory of the moment she said good-bye to her adolescence on a winding dirt crossroad, surrounded by fields of wildflowers. She left a part of her heart itched in the lining of the handkerchief given to him. His gift was his words, his confidence in the fated meeting between the two of them. They were best friends, even through distance and reconciliation, that was the reality.

For a moment, the being didn’t feel or sound otherworldly. 

It was genuine. It was true.

Which meant her Ash was no longer just Ash. 

Which brought her to another crossroads. This time, there were no wildflowers or sherbet-colored sunsets. This time it is a cold cavern of inescapable truths, clutched in the hands of a beast hiding within a boy she wanted to save.

For now, Misty’s fists fall, and she wraps her fingers onto his backside, in confusion, in desperation. She lets him press his mouth against the curve of her neck, shuddering as he described the color of the aura, how it tasted like pure, almost raw steak. How beautifully chaotic their auras paired together, how their kingdom will be triumph under such order.

For the first time that night, as tears of rage poured from her, she holds onto him, reciting the words she wished she said to the boy lost within himself.

**Author's Note:**

> i clearly reached my inner 14 year old for this one. anyway, please review and share your thoughts! xoxo


End file.
